


Sleeping In

by Baroness_Blixen



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Sleeping In, embarrassed mulder, feisty 'I don't give a shit' scully, mulder and scully share a hotel room, revival era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-17 03:12:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15452112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baroness_Blixen/pseuds/Baroness_Blixen
Summary: Revival era: Mulder and Scully accidentally sleep in. Skinner is not amused.





	1. Chapter 1

Waking up these days is easier; age makes it harder to sleep in. Getting up, however… that is a whole different story. Today, though, many things feel different. Mulder doesn’t open his eyes, not yet. He doesn’t need to anyway. The solid warmth next to him is Scully; there is no question about it. He’s slept next to her for far too many years not to know. He suppresses the need to draw her closer and bury his nose in her soft hair, nuzzle her neck. Mulder loses himself there for a moment, in the world between dream and reality. The rough sheets against his skin bring him back too quickly; return him much closer to wakefulness than he wants to be. His eyes still closed, he realizes they’re not home. This is neither their house nor Scully’s apartment in the city where they’ve stayed at exactly twice when they were both too tired to drive home after work. But these sheets are too starched, the mattress is too hard. Mulder opens one eye to test his theory. Unfamiliar sights greet him; his hand reaches out to where he hopes the bedside table stands. It does. His hand sweeps the contents off clean and they clatter to the ground.

“Shit,” he mumbles. Next to him Scully sighs and stretches, waking up in slow, languid movements.

“What happened?”

“Forgot where we were for a moment.” Mulder is awake now and with him his brain. They’re at a hotel. They wrapped their case here in Omaha late last night and Skinner was nice enough to spring for rooms so they could all get some much needed sleep. Neither of them was getting any younger, after all. The A.D. didn’t say a word, but seeing his small, red-rimmed eyes Mulder understood; he felt the same.

“What time is it?” Scully asks, but instead of checking herself, she burrows further into the blankets, her eyes closing again. Mulder makes a grab for his phone and it blinks at him in furious colors. Several messages and missed calls stare at him. It’s 10.05 am. That can’t be right.

“Scully, what time were we supposed to get up today?”

“8 am,” Scully’s muffled voice answers.

“Uhm, did you set the alarm?” All missed calls are from Skinner. Who is probably fuming down at the breakfast buffet. Or in front of their hotel room, ready to yell at them as soon as they emerge. Then it hits Mulder; they had two hotel rooms. Skinner doesn’t even know they, for the millionth time, went against bureau protocol and fraternized on a case.

“I told you to set the alarm.” How Scully can stay so calm in all of this is beyond Mulder. Years ago she would have sprinted from the bed, phone at her ear and apologizing to Skinner in big, promising words. Today she’s laying there with the hint of a smile on her face, her hair sprawled out as if this was a vacation. “What time is it, Mulder?” Looking at her, marveling at her beauty, Mulder almost forgot.

“We might have accidentally slept in, Scully.” Her eyes pop open. She grabs for her own phone and sighs. He’s expecting her outburst any second now. But nothing happens. She puts the phone next to her and Mulder sees it blink, too. More angry messages and missed calls.

“So what, Mulder.”

“So what?” His voice is higher than it should be and he clears his throat. “Skinner is going to be furious. He is going to be even more furious when he finds out we spent the night together.”

“Mulder, this isn’t 1999.”

“Oh, it isn’t? Thanks for reminding me, Scully. It is 10 am, though. We were supposed to meet Skinner an hour ago for breakfast to go over the case. We’re late, Scully. Really, really late.” She nods, her head still resting on the pillow. She seems relaxed; there is no sense of haste about her, of worry. She smiles up at him. One of those shrewd smiles she rarely shows him. But when she does, like now, it makes him forget everything else.

“Skinner knows we sleep together, Mulder. He’s been to our house, remember? The house where we both live?” Mulder just stares at her. “He’s not going to give us a lecture about sleeping in the same hotel room.”

“We’re still late.” He taps against his phone. The alarm opens and Mulder realizes that all of this is his fault. He did set the alarm last night: for 8 pm. He decides not to tell Scully; at least not yet. He makes a mental note to wear his glasses before he sets the alarm next time, though.

“Our flight doesn’t leave until 2 pm. We’ve got time.” Scully takes the phone out of his hand and puts it next to hers. She plays with his fingers, glancing at them; Mulder is certain he can see ideas dancing in her eyes. “We have time,” she repeats, her voice soft as a feather.

“Skinner is already angry.” Mulder is distracted; Scully’s hand is moving up to his wrist, caresses his arm. He isn’t sure where she is going with this, but he wants to find out. Her free hand picks up one of the phones; it must be his. She quickly types a message and as soon as she’s pressed send, she throws it behind her and launches herself at Mulder.

“I told him we’re sorry, but we’ll be even later.”

“We?” Mulder can barely form the word as Scully’s lips come down on his. The kiss is full of intent, of determination. All Mulder can do is kiss her back, surrender to her. He does so, gladly.

“There is no you or I, Mulder. It’s always we,” Scully lets him know in between kisses. She straddles him and unbuttons her pajama top, button by button. Mulder watches, savors each new sliver of exposed skin.

“What happened to ‘99 Scully who was all duty?” He marvels with a huge grin.

“She had no idea what she was missing. Now shut up, Mulder, and put your mouth to better use. We may have time, but we don’t have all day.”


	2. Chapter 2

When they finally make it out of their hotel room (it’s Scully’s, really) and down into the lobby, it’s after 11 am. Mulder keeps trying to straighten his hair in an attempt to at least look presentable when he has to face his boss. But his hair, much like Scully today, has its own head. Scully tried to help him by combing her fingers lovingly through his hair in the elevator but gave up with a shrug as if things could be worse. Mulder doubts it. Earlier, he offered to take a shower in his hotel room, pretend they used it too. But Scully shook her head, not accepting a no from him in any shape or form today, and dragged him into the shower with her. They saved some water at least, he thinks.

Skinner sits at a table all by himself and Mulder slows his steps, not quite ready for confrontation yet. Scully notices his hesitation and grabs his hand.

“Hey.” Her voice sounds like dripping honey and he smiles at her. At least he won’t get yelled at all by himself. He wants to tell her how thankful he is for her presence and decides that maybe it’s not the right moment here in the middle of a breakfast buffet, surrounded by cheese.

“Agents.” Skinner’s voice startles Mulder and he squeezes Scully’s hand. That he’s forgotten he’s holding. He blushes as he sees Skinner look at their entwined hands. Scully, however, seems unfazed by all of this.

“Morning, Sir.” How very formal. As Scully drags him over to the table and pushes him down into a chair like a child, he thinks of the handful of time Skinner came to their house. Unofficially, of course. How they drank wine together, laughed and reminisced as if their lives had been nothing but a joyride. Days when they called him Walter, not Sir. Mulder still does, sometimes. Just to agitate him. Not today, though. Definitely not today. 

“It’s almost noon, Agent Scully,” Skinner glances at Mulder, looks him up and down. Quickly, he tries to smooth down his hair again. Next time they have a quick morning tryst in a hotel while Skinner is waiting for them he is going to get on top. Let Scully worry about her hair for a change. He nods to himself, and Skinner, taken aback, blinks at him. Mulder sinks lower into his chair.

“Are you all right, Agent Mulder?”

“Of course,” Mulder clears his throat. Judging by how his cheeks feel, he is sure he looks like a ripe tomato. At least he is not the only one; there is a faint pink blush covering Skinner’s cheeks. The only person unperturbed by all of this is Scully.

“I’m so hungry,” she sighs and grabs two pieces of bread from the small basket in the middle of the table. Of course she’s hungry, he thinks, as unwanted memories flash before his eyes. Scully on top of him, riding him in quick, hard movements.

“Well, yes, it’s late,” Skinner provides and Mulder feels like yelping or hiding under the table.

“You should eat something too, Mulder,” Scully says to him, biting into her buttered bread before offering it to him, “You burnt some energy.” She smiles at him in that sweet, sweet way that tells him she’s satisfied – and very much so – and Mulder just wants to disappear. She’s just confirmed for the whole world, or the breakfast company at least, what they’ve been doing. He chances a glance at Skinner after he mouths a thank you to Scully, stuffing the bread into his mouth. Their boss drinks his coffee (Mulder hopes it’s a strong one) and pretends not to have heard.

“We don’t have much time before our flight leaves. I didn’t expect you to… get up so late.” Skinner puts down his coffee cup and adjusts his glasses, all business now. There is no room for embarrassment.

“The case was taxing,” Scully says looking their boss straight into the eyes, “We were tired.” Again with the we. Mulder fidgets about on the chair, the plastic squeaking uncomfortably under his weight.

“I’m sure you were,” Skinner mumbles. “However, there is a case to go over, a report to be written.” Scully nods. “You better hurry up here. I hope you’ve packed already.” For some reason he stares at Mulder now, who almost chokes on a piece of bread. He quickly nods. “We’re leaving in half an hour. Don’t be late again.” Skinner puts all the authority he can muster into his words.

“Yes, Sir,” Scully answers for both of them, her voice pleasant. Before Skinner wanders off, he towers over their table, staring at them both. His eyes look huge so close to their faces, behind the glasses.

“Next time you plan to sleep in,” he grumbles, “tell me beforehand so I can save the FBI some money and get you one room.” With that he finally leaves them alone and Mulder takes a deep, deep breath.

“I told you he didn’t care,” Scully says, grins at him and pats his cheek before she butters another piece of bread. Looks like she’s planning on burning some more energy soon.


End file.
